


A Dance with Death

by futiledevice



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 8x03, Battle of Winterfell, Crypt, During the battle, Game of Thrones - Freeform, Gen, Spoilers, The Long Night, crypt scene, introspective, spoilers for 8x03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 23:48:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18648595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futiledevice/pseuds/futiledevice
Summary: Sansa Stark was destined to die.--a brief introspective look at Sansa during the Battle of Winterfell / contains spoilers for 8.03





	A Dance with Death

Sansa Stark was destined to die.

From a young girl, a little dove, with wings so desperate to fly and soar the greatest of skies that she never saw the axe that would cut her dreams in half. Then there was blood and bruises and a succession of men that dangled death in front of her eyes.

The girl she had been was dead and in her place grew a woman who was no longer naive to the way of the world; she learnt to wield words instead of sewing needles, to see that men were not great kings and to look for the light in even the darkest of places. She had many titles – once a princess, once Lady Regent of the North, now Lady of Winterfell – and was many things – daughter, sister, Stark. But above all else, Sansa was a survivor.

_Not today._

The sounds of the dead echoing above them had set the tension in the crypt alight. Death remained faceless to them, but its screams and destructions hunted known victims. Loved ones. Every cry for help burned through dark space, the unspoken questions suffocating in the silence, the door at the top of the stairs threateningly looming above them

Sansa was the only one who had seen the dead. The only one who knew how many. The only one who understood.

They were going to die tonight.

Hundreds of them were already dead. This was the end of the world as they knew it; fire and ice had finally met. These halls that had once filled with the sound of laughter, the rooms where she and Arya had bickered relentlessly because they had been children and the world had seemed to be there. The grounds that her mother and father had walked, the North that they had loved and ruled. All of it was now buried under death.

Sometimes she wished she could go back, knowing what she knows now. She would know not to be so naive. She would understand that loyalty was a difficult word and that power was a strong drug. Love should never be blind and betrayal ought to be expected. She longed for times that had seemed simpler, even if that was merely the protection of youth. Everything seems easier when you are a child. There is a whole life ahead of you and plenty of dreams and fantasies to fill your head with promise. She was always good at that, fooling herself into believing tales of epic romances and honourable kings.

But this game has never been simple. Making different, better, cleverer choices could have easily gotten her killed earlier. She had been hurt, she had been broken, but she had survived.

And now she was going to die.

It had all happened so quickly—silent one second, and then a creak. Something shifting. Something moving. Something alive. It sounded like bones breaking and crunching, as though there was something crawling around them. Coming closer and closer.

She didn’t see it at first. Only heard a mangled sound as a hand tore out, ripping at the first person it could find. The dead were no longer merely above them: they were inside. All around them, piercing skin and silence as screams filled the crypt. Fear closed up her throat and terror rippled through her body as her ancestors broke free from the chains of death, honourless and hungry for blood. There was nowhere to run to. This was how her world ended, in a dark small crypt, surrounded by screams.

At least she would not be alone. They had found a temporary shelter, hiding together, her eyes meeting his with a gaze that said everything that needed to be said. They knew the history behind them, the life that they had shared, and that this was goodbye. Tyrion Lannister was the best of them. There were worse people to die alongside, she silently mused. Far worse.

There was a dagger in her hand and an ache in her heart. She did not know how to wield a weapon. Arya had always been the brave one. All she could do was try and stick them with the pointy end. One last final stand to make her family proud and then she could join them. She would see her mother again, and her father, and Robb and Rickon. They were all destined to die in the end. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Her hand was shaking, the dagger trembling as she clutched it against her chest. A screech broke out breaths away and her eyes shut, shoving the blade.

Everything fell around them. She heard it at first, the inhuman noises that had tortured the air around them suddenly ceased and there was the sound of something crumbling instead, knees knocking against the cold ground. And her eyes opened to the sight of the dead, lifeless at last. Pools of blood staining the floor where they mingled with the fallen living.

It was horrible. The sight and smell of it all. Enough bodies covered this ground, it was chilling to even let her thoughts drift towards what waited for them beyond the still door. But, despite it all, Sansa felt herself breathe for the first time again. The world was still standing.

Sansa Stark was destined to die, just as all men were, but **not today.**

**Author's Note:**

> hello ! i haven't written fan fiction in over five years so i'm really sorry if this sucks, this episode just made me feel a lot of things (all i've done today is exist in a state of shock thanks a lot got) and i wanted to try out some writing. thank you for reading ♡


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